Oh Canada
by Simahoyo
Summary: Maura's father has hired a news commentator, and he wants to have Constance, Maura and Jane listen to his first show–only to hear an anti-Canadian rant. Can Jane save him from his own homegrown Bloc Québécois?


Oh Canada

By Simahoyo

(Maura's father has hired a news commentator, and he wants to have Constance, Maura and Jane listen to his first show–only to hear an anti-Canadian rant. Can Jane save him from his own homegrown Bloc Québécois?) I messed with the time space continuum a little, so that Air Farce would still be on the air.

Jane didn't meet Maura's father until later, but she got her first taste of his nutty sense of humor after Constance had gone, and a package arrived from Mr. Isles. She opened it to find an engraved medallion hanging from a ribbon.

The engraving read:

_Isles Peace Prize. Presented to Jane Rizzoli for ending World War Three in the Isles Household._

Enclosed was a thank you note. Jane learned that Maura and her mother had not spoken more than a few words to each other since her return from Africa. That was interesting. His PS was not to mention Ian's name in his wife's presence. More interesting.

Later, as she got to know the man, she could see why Maura was such a Daddy's girl. He spoiled her, yes, but he was funny and understanding. Now Jane was invited to join the family for dinner again, not by Maura, but by her Dad. He stressed that it was informal, and that he planned to check on a new news commentator he had hired, so he welcomed her comments.

Jane was almost looking forward to this, despite the usual French menu. She had dressed casually, jeans and a t shirt with no writing on it, _BoBos_, and her hair down because it was almost tamed today. She had thrown on a denim jacket. And she was starved. Even that French stuff might be good. Jane got out of her car and knocked on the huge door. She expected some maid or butler to answer the door, but it was Maura.

"Hi Jane, come on in." Maura was smiling. And of course she looked great, as always.

Jane walked in, still a bit intimidated by the entry way. Maura led her past the sitting room, and into a small dining room Jane hadn't seen before. It was intimate and cosy. Not something she associated with Beacon Hill. Constance was sitting in an upholstered wooden chair, and she was looking much livelier. Mr. Isles was standing behind her, rubbing her shoulders.

"Hi. How are _youse_ guys?"

Maura turned and gave Jane a delicately arched eyebrow. Then she giggled.

Mr. Isles grinned at Jane. "South Boston strikes again, huh?"

"I'm _Southie_ all the way."

He grinned, and replied, "I'm just South all the way."

Constance looked at him with a mixture of affection and admonishment. " You can't cut off a quarter of your family tree. I know there are some Bostonians hidden in there."

"True, dear, but I can try."

"You mean Maura's the only real Bostonian in your family? I thought you were from here?"

"Well, Jane, He hates to admit it in public, but he was born in Newport. He's actually a _Rhodie_."

"Connie, hush, you'll ruin my image."

Maura had leaned into Jane, touching her shoulder to Jane's arm. "Maybe we should eat."

"Good plan, Kiddo. I'll get the grub." He took off into the kitchen.

The table was already set, so Maura pointed out a chair for Jane and then helped her mother scoot forward. Jane noticed Maura pat Constance's hand before she came back to sit next to Jane.

"Dad has his own way of getting dinner on the table. Get ready." Maura was smirking.

Jane watched as Maura's Dad sailed into the room, with plates perched on his arms like a waitress in a diner. His huge hands held two plates each. He wandered around the table setting them down for each of them. He paused to kiss his wife on the cheek as he served her. Then he held up a hand.

"Be right back." Then he dived back into the kitchen, returning with a tray of wine glasses, and a bottle of wine, plus a bottle of Sam Adams.

Jane grinned in appreciation for his acknowledgment of her tastes. He winked at her. What a character.

Dinner was nothing like the formal affair Jane had suffered through with Maura. The food was simple, there weren't a ton of forks to figure out, and everything tasted good. The conversation wasn't at all snooty.

"Jane, are you enjoying your _coq au vin?", _asked Constance.

Maura spoke quietly, so only Jane would hear. "It means Chicken in wine."

"Why yes, it's really good". Jane turned to Maura and as quietly as possible grumped, "Why didn't she say so?"

"We're both bilingual, and it's hard to remember things we learned first in one language for the other.."

"Oh, like my Nonna, with me trying to wrap my tongue around the Italian words for her recipes."

"Constance, where did you learn French?", asked Jane.

"From my parents. I'm from Quebec. I thought Maura would have told you."

"We usually discuss cases or where we want to order take out from–or men."

Maura reddened slightly, but grinned, "That's true."

Mr. Isles added, "Why am I not surprised? Still a favorite topic after all these years?"

Maura coughed lightly adding, "Tell us about your new hire, Dad."

"I heard him in California. He had a nine point seven share..."

"Is that good?", asked Jane.

"It's very good. So I talked to him, and signed him to a two year contract. I hope you like him."

"What's his name, dear?"

"Russ Carlton."

"Is he one of those conservative guys, or what?", asked Jane.

"Yes, unfortunately, they are very popular. And it's about the ratings."

"Well, At least he should be entertaining. I suppose. I just hope Ma doesn't wind up dating him like she did Bill O'Reilly."

"Russ is married. You're safe from that."

When they had finished eating, Maura cleared the table and Jane helped. The Isles parents went into the sitting room, where they talked quietly.

"So, is this maid's day off or something like that?"

"After Mom's accident, my parents decided to stay here until she's better. The staff is down to the gardners and CNAs for Mom. Our maid is the dishwasher. The CNAs prepare special meals for her. I've been bringing over meals, your mother also wanted to help. So everything is working out."

"What about the other people's jobs?"

"Some went to other houses, others took a paid leave. My parents don't throw people out of work."

"They are good people. I'm liking them more every time I meet them."

"Good, because they like you."

A grin was on Jane's face as they joined the others in the sitting room.

Maura's Dad pointed his remote at the big screen TV. Since Broadcasting was his work, it made sense that they has a big one. The show started, and the commentator was a fairly good looking middle aged guy, with glasses and a California accent. His voice was slightly irritating, and he talked like he knew everything.

"And so, my fellow Americans, we need to watch out for the sneaking sophistry of Socialism, coming at us from the North. I'm talking about Canada, folks. That's right, the home of socialized medicine, and a multi-party system. The only good thing I can say about the Northern Blight is they were smart enough to vote in Steven Harper..."

"That Hoser! How dare he? And Harper? He's a huge mistake. The worst one in my generation..."

"_C'est juste de la chnoutte. _"

"_Oui, C'est le bout de la marde!_"

Jane turned to Mr. Isles, "They don't like him."

"I noticed."

"Now our own government is prepared to pay more than even Canada is worth for something as worthless as Obamacare. Heck, half of them can't even speak English."

Maura was on her feet, throwing balled up tissues at the screen.

"What a _Dart_! I could _chirp_ him all night."

"A real _Squarehead.. Sacrer viarge"_

Maura's dad started to sink down in his chair.

"I'm in trouble."

"You know what else we need to do, is we need to close the northern border like we did with Mexico. Let's build a fence to keep them out..."

Constance and Maura turned as one, pointing at Mr. Isles. "YOU!"

He gave them a sheepish smile. "Uh, ooops."

"You never vetted him? How could you Dad?"

"I made a mistake. He was popular, but I had no idea he was anti-Canadian. Really."

"You need to do something about him, dear."

"I signed him to a two year contract. I can't fire him."

Constance's voice was calm and cold.

"I was thinking more in terms of his head on a platter."

"Maura?"

"I vote for a live autopsy."

"Jane, any help here?"

"You could nominate him for the Chicken Cannon."

There was silence from the Canadian contingent.. Then, "How do you know about the Chicken Cannon?"

"You know I'm a big sports fan, right?"

"And..."

"I never miss Hockey Night in Canada. I caught Air Farce after, and they did the Chicken Cannon."

"What the heck are you talking about?", asked Mr. Isles.

"It's a comedy segment where the audience votes on their most unpopular people of the week, and they load a giant air cannon with peanut butter, whipped cream, jello—messy stuff. And they always end with a rubber chicken. Then they shoot it at the picture of someone who deserves it."

"Jane, that is actually brilliant.", said Constance.

Maura grinned at her. "I like it."

"If you'll let me live, I'm for it."

Maura looked at Constance, considering.

"What do you think Mom?"

"I believe we can let him live, if he'll record the segment, if we can get Mr. Russ Carlton on as a target."

"Oh God..."

One week later they had all gathered again. Strings had been pulled. The TV was set to CBC, and was ready to record Royal Canadian Air Farce. The segments were funny, but they were kind of holding their breath for the Chicken Cannon. Finally, the characters dressed in Air Farce uniforms brought out the Chicken Cannon.

The Officer introduced the segment, set up the target holder and began to introduce the targets.

"We have three targets for our chicken cannon tonight. The first, and first in the hearts of all Canadians is Steven Harper. For his smooth speeches, we start with baby oil."

The other two comedians loaded the cannon as he spoke. They added an old fashioned vacuum tube for the sucking mess Harper had made in Ottowa, Fake money for the change in the VAT, and a comb to keep Harper's hair looking good no matter what came up. The last thing was the rubber chicken. Then they shot his picture. Maura and Constance grinned. Jane gathered that they were not fans of the current Prime Minister.

Next they started to introduce their next target. "We had a lot of mail from Massachusetts, and New Brunswick about the next target, but the bulk of nominations came from Quebec. Apparently American conservative news commentator Russ Carlton managed to insult every Canadian in the space of one single hour. And now, we shall have our revenge."

"For his ignorance, a paper back copy of, 'Canada for Dummies'. For his Anti-French pronouncements, _blancmange_. For his comments against our health care system, _poutine,_ with extra gravy. And now we load our chicken."

The picture was set up as a target. The cannon was fired, and the sploosh, plus the goo running down the grinning face of Carlton lead to cheers not only from the audience, but the sitting room as well. Constance and Maura high-fived each other. That was one to remember. But what came next gave Jane an insight into Constance and Maura like she had never seen before.

"Our last target is a special request. One of our early fans from Quebec, some of you may remember her from her radio program...Constance Riall, and her lovely daughter, have requested that we remind her husband that hiring Mr. Russ Carlton was not a good idea. So, here is the target."

Jane glanced at Mr. Isles, who was grinning and shaking his head.

"Our ammunition consists of a copy of Russ Carlton's 2 year contract, covered in mud, molasses in memory of the great molasses flood of Boston, and the possibility that it could occur again in Beacon Hill. Finally, snow, because things could get cold until Carlton stops picking on Canada. Finally we add the chicken."

Jane was laughing so hard it hurt. When the ammo hit the target, everyone burst into laughter.

"Oh my God. You got me. You got me good."

Identical grins were on Maura's and her mother's faces. Then they burst into song.

O Canada!

Our home and native land

True patriot love in all thy sons command.

Car ton bras sait porter l'épée,

Il sait porter la croix!

Ton histoire est une épopée

Des plus brillants exploits.

God keep our land glorious and free!

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

Fin


End file.
